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Saturday, June 27, 2015

A
favorite parable used by Buddhists to illustrate the unreality of soul or self (I
take these two meaning the same thing), is that of the house. The house is composed
of the roof, walls, posts, floor, windows, and so forth. Now, take each one of these
apart, and we have no such thing as a house, which appeared to have a permanent
actuality a while ago. The house did not have any independent existence outside
the material whose combination only in a certain form makes it possible. From the
beginning there was no house-soul or house-ego, which willed according to its own
will to manifest itself in such and such way by combining the roofs, walls, et
cetera. The house came into existence only after all these component parts were
brought together. If the house-soul insisted that "I am a thing by itself,
distinct from any of you, members of my being, and therefore I shall abide here
forever even when you, component parts, are disorganized. I will go up to heaven
and enjoy my reward there, for I have sheltered so many worthy people under my roof,”
this soul would be the most appropriate object of laughter and derision. But are
we not standing in a similar situation when we speak of our eternal self dwelling
within us and departing after death in its heavenward course?

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According
to Buddhism, the question why we must not discriminate between friends and foes
is answered by the doctrine of non-ego, as above explained at some length. Therefore,
the Buddhists declare: Regulate your thoughts and deeds according to the feeling
of oneness, and you will find a most wondrous spiritual truth driven home to your
hearts. You are not necessarily thinking of the welfare and interest of others,
much less of your own; but, singularly enough, what you aspire and practise is naturally
conducive to the promotion of the general happiness, of others as well as of yourselves.
In such an enlightened mind as has realized this most homely and yet most ennobling
truth, there is no distinction to be made between friend and enemy, lover and hater.
He is filled with loving-kindness and brotherly-heartedness. And such a one is called
by Buddhists a Bodhisattva, which translated means "intelligence-being,"
or "one who has realized wisdom."

Soyen
Shaku was a Zen master well known for his efforts in bringing Zen to the
West, and was abbot of both Kenchō-ji
and Engaku-ji temples
in Kamakura, Japan. He taught both Nyogen
Senzaki and D.T. Suzuki, also famous for promoting Zen abroad. The above
is an extract from ‘Sermons of a Buddhist Abbot’ translated into English by
D.T. Suzuki, which can be freely downloaded from here.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Grief comes to us all. Perhaps a
family member, a partner, a child, a friend or a pet has left you in past few
years. Perhaps more than one. This author has lived long enough to see a number
of the above loved ones pass away, the most recent being my beloved
grandmother. The sense of loss, once the numbness had dissipated somewhat, was
heart-wrenching. A deeply-loved woman by all in her family, her departure,
though not entirely unexpected, came earlier than any of us expected. This
happened six months ago, and though the waves of grief are becoming less
frequent & less strong, they still come, sweeping away thoughts &
emotions in the wake, drowning them in an ocean of sadness. But, if we’re wise,
we learn how to not drown in this ocean. That way we insult a loved-one’s
memory rather than honour it.

Being awake to the current moment, to
what we might call the 'buddha space' that underlies our every experience, can
definitely help with the grieving process. Trying to overcome feelings of grief
with doctrinal thoughts such as, “Well, she’ll get reborn again,” or, “She’s in
heaven now,” or even, “As everything is not self, nobody died anyway” don’t
really help. At best, they’re platitudes used to alleviate some of the sorrow,
at worst they’re unfeeling dogmas used to bury uncomfortable feelings. Being
attentive to our grief is a much more pragmatic approach, however, giving it
the space in which to express itself. Everything in life, including grief,
needs to live out its natural life-cycle; being ‘born,’ existing, and then
dying away. Suppressing or denying negative emotions simply hides them in the unconscious, from where they can wreak untold damage later on.

Of course, if we are simply aware of
grief, allowing it full expression, it’s possible that it may overwhelm us, and
then it can harm us just as if it had been buried away in the unconscious, the
main difference being that we will often be aware of why we feel so sad.
However, we will still suffer, perhaps even enter a depression, hurting those
around us and possibly harming relationships, both private & professional. Being
awake to our buddha space can allow our grief to be fully expressed but not to
the extent that we get lost in it. This is because being awake to this spacious
buddha-nature both allows a powerful emotion like grief the opportunity to be
fully lived and does so in the peaceful, calm & compassionate space of our
innate “buddha-ness.” All this may sound fine, you might think, but something
more practical or concrete is needed to back up such a claim. With this in
mind, the reader is invited to try out the following meditation to see
yourself.

This is a three
part meditation to explore, understand & deal with negative feelings at
least a little bit better. It’s probably best to do each part several times in
turn before moving on to doing all three.

Part I: First, we
need to establish the peaceful base (or, ‘buddha space’) which will be used as
the stable foundation upon which any observations can be built. In a quiet
environment, close your eyes and rest in the moment. Take notice of each sound
as it arises; is it loud, soft, long, short, pleasant, unpleasant, etc. After a
few minutes of this, turn your attention around to that which is hearing all
these sounds. Please look with honesty at what you find based on current
evidence, not on previous knowledge or assumption. Is it noisy or or quiet? Is
it moving or still? Perhaps, like this author, you find a silence that hosts
all the sounds you can hear. It is awareness itself, awake to every sound that
is occurring, but is itself perfectly silent, wonderfully still. It is the ‘buddha
space’ that is awakened to this present moment.

Part II: Next, we
will use this buddha space to take note of thought rather than sound. So, as a
preparation for observing thought, we need to repeat the first meditation and
become aware of this spaciousness in which sounds are heard. Take a few moments
to listen to sounds before turning attention around to the listener. Once you’re
awake to this welcoming silence, you’re reading for Part II. Think of a place
you know: Your home, workplace, the park or wherever. Visualize this location
fully, but all the while be aware of the open awareness that is observing this
memory. Be alive to the fact that this memory is occurring in a clear,
welcoming knowing. The famous Thai forest monk Ajahn Chah called this “our real
home.” Whatever place is imagined, it appears in this real home; the only home
we really ever have. Now, do the same with a person. Visualise their face
clearly, the sound of their voice, their personality and actions. Again, as you
do so, be awake to the buddha space that plays host to these memories and
thoughts. Try this meditation with people you like and with people you dislike.
Whatever the emotional responses you have, can you see the non-judgemental spaciousness
in which they arise? If you can, you’re ready for the next stage.

Part III: Finally,
having made sure you’ve gone through parts I & II first and are established
in your ‘true home,’ think of an event that causes you some discomfort: a time
when you were done wrong or embarrassed. Be open to the uncomfortable memories
and associated feelings. Stay awake to what they exist in: buddha space. Give
them room to be, observe them from this spaciousness, recognising what happened
and the feelings that arise in you as a result. Don’t judge any of this, but
simply give it room to breath; it will dissipate on its own when the time is
ripe. Now, think of a loved one that has passed away, allowing all the good memories
(and bad) to arise in this buddha space. The pain is still painful, perhaps
even more so if this is the first time that you’ve faced it, but, if you stay
aware of the peacefulness in which the pain exists, it won’t be able to ‘catch’
you and overwhelm you. In other words, if you identify with that which is aware
of negative emotions, including grief, they are able to express themselves
fully without causing you unbearable suffering. Often, such feelings remain
buried in the subconscious where they may wreak all kinds of chaos, much of
which you may not even realise is related to your suppressed grief. Grief, after
all, is a natural reaction to the death of somebody that we love, but it needn’t
cause damage. Not if we stay aware of the buddha space that is always here, always
calm, always open.

Such an awareness has certainly helped
this author to deal with feelings of grief regarding my lovely grandmother’s
death. Rather than trying to think of other things, escape into a movie, or
rationalize away negative feelings, being this spaciousness for grief to arise,
exist & cease has made the grieving process a tolerable, even insight-laden
experience. Not that grief is over and done with any quicker this way than if
experienced from the viewpoint of a suffering personality, but the suppression,
depression, and intense sadness often associated is less likely to occur. Grief
is cushioned by awareness of buddha space, recognised and allowed to be, but
not indulged in or lost in. Moreover, through being this buddha space, insight
into this existence can develop, such as the impermanent nature of both
physical & psychological processes.

Of course, being buddha space isn’t
only useful when we’re grieving or experiencing other intensely negative
emotions, but the fact that it can help with such strong emotions reveals its
power. Being spacious awareness can improve the quality of every moment in our
lives, from the mundane to the profound. Indeed, part of living from this
buddha space is the revelation that what we take to be mundane is in fact
profound. Every moment is profoundly important when experienced from the
viewpoint of buddha space; the trick is to keep looking back and recognising
this spaciousness at our centre. As to grief, if given the space it needs to go
its natural course, it will not only be less devastating, but – along with
those that we miss - will also be our teacher. Thank you, Nan.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

When we first come to meditate, we
will notice quite quickly that even sitting for a minute seems almost impossible.
All we get is restlessness and agitation. With practice though, we will soon be
able to sit for longer periods. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes—eventually
we will be able to sit for half an hour with ease. Sometimes the meditation is peaceful,
other times not, but in the beginning stages the key element is patience.

It’s important to see that the five
hindrances to peace in the mind—sensual desire, ill will, dullness,
restlessness, doubt—are not created by meditation. It’s just what is there
already. In daily life we are used to thinking a lot, and often not in a very
skillful or controlled way. This type of thinking tends to agitate the mind and
create different types of mental stress. So when we sit down to concentrate on
the breath or another meditation object, what we notice first is what is already
there. Suddenly we see, “Hmm, there’s a lot of thinking going on.” So to begin
with, just accept that it’s normal for the untrained mind to be like that. And
the way to deal with it skillfully is to develop this quality of mindfulness.

We meditate to get to know our mind.
But that doesn’t mean we think, “I’ve got to be peaceful!” If we think and
attach in this way then we’ll tend to get irritated with ourself when we’re not
peaceful. Our aim is just to know the mind. And when we’re working on
developing constant awareness, this will include times when we are not very
peaceful, when there are thoughts and distractions coming up. So we just know, “Oh,
now the mind is distracted.” There will also be times when our mindfulness and concentration
are strong and the hindrances disappear. At those times we are aware that, “Now
the mind is peaceful. Now the mind is calm and concentrated.” Whatever the
experience, we know it for what it is. That’s our aim.

Ajahn Anan is
abbot of Wat Marp Jan forest monastery in Thailand. He studied with the
internationally-renowned teacher Ajahn Chah and has been a monk since 1975. The above quotation is from the book 'Simple Teachings on Higher Truths' which can be downloaded for free from here.